


team full of monsters (we're a generation of miracles)

by RiniRhyme



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 17:16:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/600207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiniRhyme/pseuds/RiniRhyme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Kuroko came to fall in love with basketball.</p>
            </blockquote>





	team full of monsters (we're a generation of miracles)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Qem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qem/gifts).



> For Qem:
> 
> Happy holidays! As requested, this is gen and it features a bit of Kuroko's back story. I know you asked for humor and I tried to include that in, but please forgive me if I've failed! Thank you for introducing me to the manga and I really, really hope that you'll like this fic! :D

When Kuroko first discovered basketball, it was by accident. He’s always known about basketball—it was the sport with the orange ball and you throw it into the basket—but he had never actually known what basketball _was_.

He was about seven or eight and the neighborhood kids always gathered together to play in the afternoons. Yukino, one of the bigger kids, brought along his older brother’s basketball and herded them towards the nearest free courts which were several blocks away. Kuroko hadn’t wanted to play basketball, he wanted to go play baseball like they usually did, but Yukino insisted. Kuroko followed along because he didn’t quite want to go home yet. Yukino explained the rules and set them up in teams—green versus red—and viciously dominated the team that he wasn’t on.

Kuroko was on the green team, the opposite of Yukino, and he didn’t feel the enthusiasm that Yukino had. He thought about leaving when someone on the red team messed up dribbling and the ball nearly smacked him in the face. He caught it with both his hands.

“Go!” someone had yelled and Yukino loomed out of nowhere.

Kuroko had gone, instinctively remembering in baseball when people from the dugout yelled at him to move, and he went down the court, dodging players left and right.

“Shoot it!” his teammates of that day hollered and Kuroko had lifted his hands above his head, ball poised in the palm of his hand, and tossed.

The ball didn’t make it into the basket; in fact, it fell several decimeters short and bounced off the court entirely, leading everyone on a merry chase of catch that ball.

The green team lost that day, but Kuroko looked at his hand when he got home and remembered the feel of the ball against his palm. An excitement thrummed in his veins, even more than when he played baseball.

Basketball, he thought that night as he curled up in bed and when he was asleep, in his dreams he dribbled an orange ball across a wide concrete court.

==

Middle school rolled around and he ended up going to Teikou, which was only two bus stops away from home. He joined the basketball club there and discovered that there were many, many different kinds of players and that most of them were really good. Amazing, really. He knew that Teikou had a reputation for its basketball team, but he didn’t really _know_ until he watched them at practice.

Kuroko was short so he was never going to be able to do a slam dunk, but he never thought anyone in middle school would be able to. There are players in the first string that can. Even amongst the second string players, he was sure that there was one. Among the freshmen, there was a very tall boy with lazy eyes and a penchant for sweets. The coach had singled him out on the first day—Murasakibara Atsushi—and everyone knew who he was. He was fast, despite his long limbs, and aggressive on the court; it was nearly like watching a young Howard Dwight play and Kuroko was in awe. There were several others that stood out in a swath of talent, but the competition within the ranks were fierce and on the court, even fiercer.

Of course, Kuroko remained in the third string and it was frustrating to watch everyone that was so much better than him.

He wasn’t particularly talented, not the way that Aomine Daiki was, nor was he tall like Murasakibara, nor was he cunning like Akashi, and neither was he a great shooter like Midorima. Kuroko had passion as fuel and physical limitations as a wall. He stayed for extra practice as much as he could as often as he could—often alone in the fourth auditorium at school because someone was spreading rumors about a ghost haunting its wide, empty halls.

It was there that he struck up an unlikely friendship with Aomine. Besides cowering in fear of the ghost stories, the one of the first things Aomine had ever said to him was: “I don’t care if you’re first string or third string! You like basketball enough to stay for extra practice every night, right? If you like basketball, you can’t be bad!”

Aomine was strange and outgoing and friendly, although a bit rough around the edges. Instead of heading to the regular auditorium where the first string would practice, he would practice with Kuroko.

Kuroko never won against Aomine, but it was fun. He got used to Aomine’s high speed turns and quick layups, his feints and his incredibly overpowering plays. He thought that after all that, six months after joining the team, he might be able to move up to second string at least. He was much better than when he first started, quicker and sturdier and a little bit taller too.

He was so wrong.

The ranking match in late October proved to him his strength. He wasn’t bad; he just wasn’t better than everyone else. He stayed as a third string member. That day, after practice, he couldn’t meet Aomine’s eyes and neither could he face Aomine for their extra practice. Instead, he went to the locker room with the other boys when their coach blew his whistle to signal the end of the day. He changed back into his school uniform and sat down in a corner with his legs tucked to his chest and his head on his knees.

“Why can’t I be better?” he muttered to himself.

“Holy crap,” someone exclaimed in alarm. Feet came into view and Kuroko looked up. It was another boy from the team; tall, broad shouldered, crooked teeth. His mind supplied him with a name, the name of a boy who had long ago brought a crowd of children to a basketball court: Yukino. Yukino smiled awkwardly at him. “I didn’t even notice you there,” he said, extending a hand. “Don’t look so down.”

Kuroko couldn’t answer him. His voice wouldn’t work so instead, he glared.

Yukino withdrew his hand, keeping the awkward smile on his face. “Look, whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.”

“I didn’t make second string,” Kuroko managed, his voice quiet and steady despite the turbulence within.

Yukino shrugged. “I didn’t either,” he admitted which Kuroko was surprised at. He remembered the viciousness with which Yukino would crush the opposing team and the nearly pin-point accuracy of his three pointers. Then again, this was years ago and as children. His next words echoed in Kuroko’s skull. “I’m quitting.”

“But why?” Kuroko asked. “You’re better than me at basketball. How can you quit?”

Yukino looked around, as if searching for eavesdroppers though everyone has already long cleared out of the locker room. “This is a team full of monsters,” he muttered. “There’s nothing I can do about that.” He gave another shrug and walked towards the door. “You coming?”

Kuroko shook his head and stayed right where he was. Yukino said nothing and let the door shut silently behind him, leaving Kuroko mired in his thoughts.

Quitting? He’s never honestly thought about it, but what Yukino said made him think. He was never going to amount to much and he didn’t want to be stuck on third string forever. Maybe basketball just wasn’t his thing; there were plenty of people like that in the world, after all. People liked baseball, but not everyone was a baseball player, were they? Maybe he should quit while he was ahead.

At the same time, this was basketball. He played this sport every day after school and then some; he threw himself into this passion with a fervor that had his mother worried.

Kuroko thought about it long and hard and by the time he made up his mind, it was after eight thirty at night. He slung his bag over a shoulder and walked out into the silent halls of Teikou. While everyone else had already changed and left, not once did Kuroko see Aomine enter or leave the lockers. Aomine was still waiting for him, this late after school, because they both shared a love for a sport. At least he wouldn’t be betrayed, Kuroko thought angrily. He quickly deflated and rubbed at his tired eyes. He couldn’t blame Aomine for being better than he was, he could only blame himself for not being as good.

The lights in the fourth auditorium was still on, shining bright like a beacon in the darkness and Kuroko opened the door.

Aomine was there, dribbling a ball and staring at the clock with a frown on his face. When he saw Kuroko, he grinned.

“You’re late!” he yelled. “There’s hardly any time left—” Aomine stopped himself and blinked, crooking his head to a side and catching the bouncing ball one handedly without any effort at all. “Are you going home already?” The frown was back.

 _This team is full of monsters_ , Kuroko thought. “I’m thinking about quitting basketball.”

Aomine looked shocked and he dropped the ball he was holding. “What? Why?” he demanded, throwing his arms out wide.

“With my skills, I can’t even make it to second string,” Kuroko said. “I can’t ever play beside you.” That fact hurt to acknowledge out loud. “I’ve been on this team for half a year; I guess there’s nothing you can do if you’re not made for it. On top of that, this is Teikou. I can’t be of any use to the team.”

Aomine was silent, his eyes just as serious as his expression. It seemed like he was considering Kuroko’s words and as Kuroko was about to leave, he spoke: “In a team, there’s no such thing as an unnecessary player. There’s no way that a guy who stays behind later than everyone else is completely useless. Watching you made me respect you and want to work harder. I’m not going to say that you can do it if you don’t give up, but if you do give up, there won’t be anything for you.”

Kuroko gritted his teeth and closed his eyes momentarily. Did Aomine not think he knew this? He thought it through, as much as he could; giving up basketball was moving on with his life and not be stuck forever at the back of the pack. He wasn’t going to get anywhere in the third string, not when he wanted to play in matches and experience the thrill of the buzzer and timer counting down. He wanted to play basketball, not sit on the bench and watch.

“Aomine.”

Kuroko and Aomine looked over at the other entrance. It was the other first years that made it to first string with Aomine, the strongest players to have come from nothing. Akashi led the trio, followed behind by Murasakibara and Midorima, who was holding a squirt bottle in a delicately taped hand. He was strange and Kuroko wasn’t the only one who thought so. Then again, all the first year regulars had their quirks.

“I thought I didn’t see you for a while,” Akashi continued as if he didn’t even notice Kuroko. He probably didn’t. “So this is where you were.”

Aomine shrugged. “Oh, yeah. There were too many people in the other auditorium.”

“Well,” said Akashi, “it doesn’t matter where you practice—”

And then his eyes alighted on Kuroko, who was stepping around Aomine to make his leave. It was rare for someone to see him when all he wanted to do was fade into the background.

“Who is he?” Akashi asked, his dichromatic eyes still on Kuroko, opened wide as if blinking would have Kuroko fading from sight. There was a calculating look on his face, one that Kuroko saw often when Akashi participated in games.

“I always practice with him. This is Tetsu,” Aomine said.

Murasakibara opened a new packet of pocky. “Hmm, did we have a guy like this on the team?” He was looking down at Kuroko, literally. He was tall and still growing. He’d probably surpass two meters soon.

“He’s not in first string,” Aomine replied, completely unaware of the tension from Kuroko. “He’s in the third string.”

Murasaki yawned, bored. “Whatever then.” To Akashi: “Hey, let’s go already.”

Akashi was still staring, though his gaze has softened. There was a sly smile upon his face as he spoke, his words quiet and cool. “No. I’m curious about him. Interesting…I’ve never seen this type,” he commented as if he were browsing merchandise. “He might be hiding a talent completely different from ours.” He nodded his head outside, indicating them to follow. Murasakibara and Midorima followed without question while Aomine and Kuroko exchanged a glance before leaving.

There were only stragglers left in the first auditorium and most of them were cleaning up, putting away the wayward balls that had escaped to all corners of the room.

“We challenge you,” Akashi declared loudly, his voice echoing.

One of the seniors looked up; he was sweaty and breathing hard and Kuroko recognized him by his thick eyebrows as Tsuji from the second string. “What?” he asked incredulously. He looked at the clock in the gym and gestured to it. “If we don’t clear out by nine, the school’s going to get mad.”

“Five minutes,” Akashi negotiated.  

Midorima sighed loudly and pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “We just got changed. And, we have a third string player with us,” he said contemptuously. He paused. “Not that it matters.”

Akashi just smiled in return.

Aomine clapped Kuroko on the shoulder and grinned widely. “Play,” he urged. “Stand with me.”

Then, Akashi replaced Aomine in Kuroko’s line of sight. “You don’t need to shoot,” he said. His smile was predatory and Kuroko felt a chill go down his spine. Whether it was from excitement from playing with these incredible talented people or from having someone of such high caliber talking to him, he couldn’t tell. “Just pass the ball to us.”

They won. In five minutes, they scored 17-2.

==

“So,” Aomine started saying nonchalantly one day as they made their way to the convenience store after practice. Kuroko had wanted to stay after, as they usually did, but Aomine insisted that they go out for celebratory food for Kuroko making first string. Being on the budget of middle school kids, they could only afford convenience store food and even then, it wasn’t much.

“So, what?” Kuroko asked.

Aomine grinned, all bright teeth and gums. “How does it feel? You made it to first string.”

It was shocking, with Akashi personally training and tutoring him in a specific way of playing for nearly a month after their fateful encounter. He had finally, at the latest ranking match, been noticed thanks to the passes and play style that he’s been perfecting. He was made a first string regular and Akashi was promoted to captain, of which he was quick to use his power to nominate Midorima as vice-captain. The seniors hadn’t been pleased, but the coach agreed with a severe expression. “You’re a generation of miracles,” he had said. “Don’t let us down.”

“It’s nothing special,” Kuroko replied.

Aomine smacked him in the arm, nearly pushing him face first into a nearby tree. “Liar!”

“I have to deal with you on a daily basis,” Kuroko said, straightening himself.

Aomine’s grin only got brighter. “Don’t be so cheeky. You should just tell me how you really feel. I bet inside you’re jumping for joy. Come on! Be honest!”

Kuroko gave him his most deadpan face that he could muster and kept walking. Aomine rolled his eyes and put Kuroko in a headlock. “You are such a liar,” he said.

Kuroko managed to squirm out of the headlock because they made it to the front of the convenience store. “You’re treating me,” he said. He stopped, considered his words, and then said: “Because I made it to first string.” As they tumbled from his mouth, the words felt warm and exciting, making his hands tremble in anticipation for tomorrow.

Aomine gave him a critical look and patted him on the head, mussing his hair. “Okay,” Aomine said. “My treat.”

Kuroko couldn’t stop the smile that tugged on his lips as he and Aomine walked into the store.

“I made first string, Aomine.”

“I know. Congratulations. Aren’t you glad that you didn’t give up?”

Kuroko felt his smile grow even bigger. If Yukino could see him now. “Yeah. I am. Thank you.”

Aomine snorted and threw a plain onigiri at him. Kuroko was so elated, he didn’t care. 


End file.
